The Distant Summer
The dream began with the sound of shattering glass, a high-pitched scream that tore through the silence of the chamber, though no glass was present, only the heavy velvet drapes that had not been drawn in forty years, and the old man, whose name was forgotten by the court but remembered by the stones, lay awake in his silk sheet, his body a map of old scars that throbbed in time with the...
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